Blue Christmas

It has happened. All month long I've been in a cheerful mood, too distracted by everything I needed to get done to have time to think. But now things are winding down, and I'm finding time for that most dangerous thing, introspection. Introspection rarely, if ever, makes me happy, especially around holidays. That's probably because I always focus on the things that disappoint, instead of on the things I have to be happy about and grateful for. And then I have guilt and shame, because I know I have plenty to be grateful for, like a job and a mortgage in good standing and the luxury of being able to afford gifts for my loved ones, who can still afford gifts for me in return, and all of that's just for starters, and now I'm sorry it's too late to pick an angel from the Angel Tree.

But disappointment nags. Worse yet, I can't put my finger on what, exactly, is disappointing me. It's a number of little things, really. Little unmet expectations all adding up to one big empty feeling, a feeling that makes me not want to get out of bed, let alone wrap presents and bake and put on a happy face for the family. Going to the mall yesterday didn't help. I think a shopping mall right before Christmas must be one of the circles of Hell. It's impossible to shop there for any length of time without becoming stressed and angry, and with the mall traffic and the parking situation, the anger and stress starts before you even get inside. And then I have more guilt and shame, because I know that Christmas isn't about presents or tree trimming or surviving the mall, or even hanging out with family. I'm a Christian. I know what tomorrow is supposed to be about. But I'm not feeling it. And that's just one more unmet expectation to add to the heap.

So I go through the motions, and hope that faking it will at some point make it so. If that doesn't, then maybe copious amounts of fudge and spiked eggnog will make it happen, at least for a few minutes. Sweet little sugar and alcohol-induced bursts of happiness to get me through the day. Maybe that's what this commercialized First World brand of Christmas is really all about.

Stopping the Insanity

Every year, of course, I make a pledge to myself that I will be vigilant, I will make preparations all year long, I will not let another Christmas sneak up on me and turn me into a frazzled wreck trying to accomplish the impossible in an impossible amount of time. And every year, of course, I promptly forget said pledge until I'm looking up from unwrapping a piece of Halloween candy and going, "Buh? Christmas is less than two months away? That's unpossible! You are crazy in the head." And then the insanity begins, and the whole thing starts all over again.

This year has been no different. For the last two months, most of my spare time's been spent working my poor, frozen fingers to the bone on knitting projects that I should have started in July. My Christmas vacation began Saturday, and my visions of baking and lazy gift wrapping vanished when I remembered I still needed to do Christmas cards and to drive out to my mom's to pick up my husband's gifts that I didn't trust him not to open if I had them shipped here, and to shop for gifts for the people for whom I will not possibly have time to knit the gifts I'd originally planned, and, oh yes, to finish the knitting I already started. So far, my vacation has been not so much a vacation as a blur of activity and panic.

How do I cope with all of this panic? Hot cocoa with copious amounts of Dr. McGillicuddy's Mint Schnapps certainly hasn't hurt. Nor has the fact that knitting is something I can do with my feet up while Nightmare Before Christmas plays on a loop to keep me company. Mostly, I keep my mind in place by carving out "me" time wherever I can get it. An extra five minutes in the shower, going to bed early, sleeping in, eating regularly and mostly right, taking time out to shave and moisturize and pamper and take good care of myself. It's not easy to do that. Instead, it's incredibly easy to forget to do any of that. Today I even forgot to eat. That is some serious forgetting right there, if you're me, if you love eating like I do. But it's important to remember these things, and to do them. These are the things that make last-minute preparations bearable, even when all of your preparations end up being last-minute. These are also the things that make it possible, when all of those preparations are finally done, to relax and enjoy the company of your friends and relatives and not end up a sniveling mess on the floor of your mother's master bathroom trying to fend off a nervous breakdown on Christmas day.

But you might want to go ahead and bring Dr. McGillicuddy along to mom's house, just in case.